Nothing really prepares you for the day you lose your faith—your hope—your purpose. It's something one clings to with great desperation. It brings you reason and meaning, but when it's gone all that remains is a lingering, fading memory of what once was and how good it could've been, but along with that memory is a deeper, nagging emotion of what's gone, never to be again. For years there hadn't been time for such thoughts. It was about survival and instinct going against the grain and doing what was needed to get the job done. To save the others was above everything at all costs. Nothing could get in the way of that. Not love. Not anger. Not rage. Not family. Just duty and all it entails. Being the leader. Being hated. Being the savior. Being the villain. Being the one that everyone despised—the pariah because at the end of the day what you did changed the world. It impacted so many lives, so many futures that it didn't leave room for emotion or second thoughts. Insecurities took a backseat to survival and you were expected to keep fighting the good fight—that is until one day everything you were fighting for someone lead you to a place where you realized you'd somehow overstayed your welcome. You were no longer needed, no longer someone who had to fight to maintain the goals for your people, but rather in your youth you became a tired, old man with no sense of purpose, with nothing to bring to the table beyond years of repressed thoughts and emotions, discarded joys and sorrows all in the name of living the dream. Charles Xavier's dream to be exact only at the end of the day no one ever mentioned that dream would be achieved after his passing—after you were the one to end his life in a moment of passion and intensity, anger and rage brought on by an uncontrollable force that guided you to the worst possible placed you'd ever been. It was the one thing that you'd never imagine happening to your mentor—to the father figure who gave you the purpose in your life when you were lost and on your own, yet it was something that Scott Summers would have to live with each and every day of his life.
Of course there was no place for pain Scott had rationalized time and time again after losing Charles. Yes, there had been guilt. There had been self-loathing, but it took a backseat to purpose and the quest to save the others. He had known what needed to be done and as expected of him, he'd protected the others even when they hadn't believed they'd needed saving. At his own expense he'd held onto hope and the belief that things could change—that the world could turn around, yet everyone he'd known and loved had turned their back to him for his actions. They all hated him—despised him even and Charles was gone. He wasn't coming back. Neither was Jean or Emma or Logan. Granted Emma was still around, but the distance between them had been brutal, isolating in a great many ways, but he'd dealt with it. He'd pretended that it hadn't hurt like crazy to see her day in and day out living in the memory of what once was between them after the Phoenix had torn apart their lives. A part of him had always wanted to say that it was all because of the Phoenix, but he knew better. He'd known some of the blame had fallen upon him. He could've done things, could've said things, could've shown her things to prove her worth to him, but he hadn't. He'd simply stayed unilaterally focused on his goal—on his purpose in life, but in the process everyone he'd loved had disappeared—faded out before his very eyes in leaving him to face it all alone. It wasn't until he'd learned of Logan's death that it all hit him…hard. He'd like to say that he was strong, that he could stay stoic and unyielding in his approach, but when he'd gotten wind of Logan's ending life lost meaning. Even at his and Logan's worst together they'd always had something special. It was something unique and different that only they could understand even if the rest of the world saw it as madness.
"I would follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond if need be," Logan had promised him time and time again until he no longer believed in that—until Logan no longer believed in him and his purpose.
"And now he's gone," Scott thought to himself as he somberly picked up the mug of beer he'd ordered. He raised it to his lips thinking about how the snow had prompted him to pull his motorcycle off on the side of the road leading him to a dump he wouldn't have normally set foot in under other circumstances. However, as he took down the swallow of stale beer and the scent of cigar smoke in the air around him, he couldn't help, but set his mug down with a sideways smirk.
Logan would've loved it. It would've been his kind of place, Scott realized as he looked around the room to see the billiard tables set up in the center of the room with burly looking men and wild women at their sides each striking up a conversation, a hustle and a need for something deeper in their lives if only for the night. Watching an auburn haired woman across the bar sliding her arm out across a burly looking man's chest, Scott couldn't help, but notice the wedding ring on her finger. It sparkled through the darkness of the room, causing her to stand out in ways that she shouldn't as the man her arm was draped around was ignoring her advances instead focusing on the game ahead of him. Looking to his hand Scott realized that he didn't have a wedding band on his finger when he made his shot effectively sinking the balls into the hole before turning around to pull her into a sloppy, eager kiss. Scott watched as she threw her arms around his shoulders allowing him to guide her out of the bar and undoubtedly into the seedy motel next door that Scott was certain her husband knew nothing about. The thought in itself caused him to shudder as he reached for his beer mug once again.
"Like what you see kid?" a voice prompted him from his thoughts as he raised his mug to his lips.
"Been there, done that in the past," Scott admitted with a poignant sigh, "It never ends well when one spouse is ready to move past the other like that. It's a real kick to the balls if you will."
"Jeanie was never ready to move on like that," the voice caused Scott to stiffen his poster, suddenly hit by a moment of recognition as he tipped his head up to discover the face of a ghost standing before him, "Sure Red over there was flirty, but Jeanie wouldn't have even thought twice about it if opportunity presented itself."
"Oh she more than thought about it," Scott stopped himself before he'd found a way to assign blame to his ex-wife for their marriage failures, "but then again so did I. It was those thoughts that put everything on a tailspin."
"Nah," his companion insisted reaching for a chair and taking a seat across from Scott, "it was just something you both grew out of."
"I always loved her," Scott let out an ironic laugh before raising his mug to his lips again as if what he was experiencing was somehow normal again. He took a long sip before setting the empty mug down on the table top to stare at his companion, "Still do. Same with Emma."
"She still not talking to you?" he questioned as Scott found himself staring at the eyes he'd convinced himself he'd never seen again. Granted Logan had escaped death time and time again, but after three beers and a whiskey shot Scott was now more convinced than ever that his misery and loneliness had conjured up the illusion before him.
"We're still talking," Scott divulged taking in an exhausted breath after a long day out on the road, "but not like we used to. Not that I can blame her. I did almost kill her after all."
"Ah," Logan waved his hand dismissively before signaling to the bartender to bring them both another round, "that's nothing for Emma. Granted she'll make you grovel a bit, which you rightfully deserve, but sooner or later the both of you will figure it out. You always do."
"Not this time," Scott slumped down in his seat before letting out a long sigh, "but then again perhaps it's time to move on for the both of us."
"To what?" Logan questioned with a crease in his brow.
"To happiness for her," Scott decided watching as the waitress returned to his corner booth away from the rest of the bar with two drinks on her tray.
"Thanks beautiful," Logan slurred pulling a few bills out of his pocket and winking at her before she set their drinks down on the table. Once she'd walked away he slid Scott's glass in towards him before issuing him a disapproving glare, "Torturing yourself like this ain't solving anything Slim."
"Neither is pretending that you're here and that we're having this conversation," Scott blinked a couple of times wondering if he'd fallen completely to madness when he watched Logan raise the mug up from the table top to his lips.
"Who said you're pretending?" Logan challenged wiggling his brow suggestively before smiling at him, "Why can't I be here?"
"Because we both know that you're…" Scott stopped himself when Logan's hand extended across the table top to slide in over Scott's. For a moment Scott felt warmth press over him. He looked down at Logan's fingers struggling to make sense of the moment when Logan issued a small squeeze over his palm.
"I wasn't going to let you sit back and suffer alone," Logan explained motioning to the bar around Scott, "This isn't where you should be on Christmas Eve."
"Is it Christmas Eve already?" Scott questioned unable to look away from Logan's hand over his. He watched as Logan's index finger curved down between his thumb and index finger simply brushing the soft, vulnerable patch of skin. The movement caused Scott's skin to bristle with sensation, his body to tighten with a combination of confusion and awareness as his eyes shot back over towards Logan from behind his glasses.
"But…" Scott's jaw practically dropped as Logan squeezed his hand tighter than before, "How?"
"Don't you believe in miracles anymore Slim?" Logan questioned leaning in across the table top to issue Scott a long, heady once over, "How long's it been Slim?"
"What do you mean?" Scott questioned blinking back at Logan behind his glasses.
"You know what I mean," Logan nodded to their fingers interlaced with one another.
"I can't believe that you're here…" Scott gulped down harder than before. Focusing on their fingers again Scott felt his pulse catch in the back of his throat. His skin was immersed in the sensation, overtaken by the notion of having someone's hands upon him. For so long he'd been on his own taking a break from the others—from the school and the questions that he'd found himself surrounded by in facing the ruins of his life around him. It wasn't about self-pity per se, but rather about a journey of self-discovery as he'd found himself questioning his purpose in the world. He'd fought so hard for their future and now that it was around them, it seemed the others were moving forward bringing their lives back to where they always should've been. His guidance had paved the way for their survival, but now he'd found himself feeling obsolete.
"What do ya say we get out of here?" Logan questioned gripping Scott's hand harder than Scott had imagined possible. When Scott remained still at the table looking to him as if madness had finally consumed him completely in his misery, Logan nodded to the window across the bar. It revealed the blizzard taking place outside the warmth of the bar, "I got a room over at the motel."
"But how? Logan, I know for a fact that you are…" Scott began again feeling confusion carry over him in what he was convinced was the beginnings of a drunken haze.
"Let's get out of here," Logan insisted rising up from his side of the table. He eyed Scott expectantly as if he'd fully anticipated Scott blindly following his order much like Scott had expected from Logan in the past. When Scott hadn't moved Logan softened his tone, "please."
"I think some air will do me good," Scott finally decided staggering up from his seat as he'd convinced himself that he'd lost his mind. Rolling his shoulders back Scott stumbled to take the first step away from the booth when he felt warmth radiate over his body serving to remind him of the alcohol he'd enveloped himself in.
"Easy Slim," Logan's thick, muscular arm slid around his waist surprising Scott with its warmth and concerned hold that carried over Scott as he staggered towards the bar's exit.
"I must've died in the blizzard," Scott mused aloud as he and Logan stood beside the exit preparing to enter out into the storm, "My motorcycle must've crashed and I'm lying in a ditch freezing to death."
"Does this feel like you're freezing to death Slim?" Logan stretched his arm out, doing his best to stroke the side of Scott's face. The movement caused Scott to lean back against the jukebox that was adjacent to the bar's exit. It felt hard and sharp digging into his spine, yet with his eyes focused on Logan, Scott couldn't help, but find himself reciprocating the gesture. He touched the side of Logan's face feeling the rough hair across Logan's jawline bringing forth a sense of familiarity and longing inside of him all over again.
"How long has it been?" Logan questioned stepping in closer to Scott through the smoky haze in the bar around them, "Really?"
"Too long," Scott's tongue eased out over his chapped bottom lip when he found himself remembering his unconventional relationship with Logan. For far too long he'd fought to repress that part of his life—to ignore those long, hot Danger Room sessions that had lead them down a path of temptation that went well beyond their grieving Jean in her absence. Instead their fury and rage had evolved into something more, something deeper as Scott had truly found a sense of release in the arms of the man who had infuriated him the most. Granted he'd realized after the fact that he and Logan hadn't been good at hiding their affair, but rather they'd been more obvious than ever when Emma had once prompted him to discuss their 'arrangement' with one another. At first Scott had been afraid to share that part of himself with Emma, but once she'd readily embraced it encouraging Scott to explore that part of himself, he'd realized that it had been special—that it made sense in its own twisted way until he and Logan had parted ways in their own schism.
"Especially for us," Logan offered up arching up on his toes to curl his thick, eager fingers into Scott's dark, wavy hair. The movement caught Scott off guard causing him to stagger forward until he found that his lips collided with Logan's eager and frantic in ways that he hadn't experienced in years. With each dip of Logan's tongue pushing in past his now parted lips, Scott couldn't help, but offer up a moan when heat radiated inside of his abdomen. Instinctively he reached out to push his arms around Logan's broad shoulders, squeezing him as if nothing else mattered in the moment. Instead he found himself giving everything to the kiss, to the repressed hunger inside of him at having been alone for so very long with the world at odds with him. Then again perhaps it was really Scott at odds with himself, he realized as he felt the first sting of the winter air upon his face. After that it was all a blur, going from frigid cold to the warmth of a cheap motel room that smelled like cigar smoke and moth balls.
"I've missed you," Logan's voice slurred as Scott felt Logan's hands upon him, over him, inside of his winter jacket to pry it off of his shoulders. Desperately Scott reached out to do the same in coaxing Logan's jacket off, then his shirt before he unbuckled Logan's belt desperate to feel the warmth of Logan's body against his.
"It's been too long," Scott mused feeling Logan's fingers grip and squeeze at his hips, pushing him back into the cool wooden door when Logan's claws extended. They slashed at Scott's shirt causing Scott to shudder when Logan retracted all, but one of his claws. With an amused smirk he guided it over the leather of Scott's belt watching as Scott's abdomen sank inward. He licked his lips looking down just in time to watch Logan slash through the leather causing it to tear before Scott found himself on the center of Logan's bed with Logan over him kissing him in a frenzy. Reaching out he reciprocated Logan's movements, fighting for dominance in the moments of madness until they were against one another, gripping and holding onto each other with wild, frantic kisses. Groaning into Logan's mouth, Scott rolled over Logan reaching down to slide his long, skilled fingers over Logan's manhood stroking and prompting a reaction out of Logan.
"I've missed you so much," Scott whispered rolling onto his back as Logan moved over him caging Scott's body beneath his weight. His teeth sank into Scott's bare shoulder alternating between teeth and tongue in teasing that spot over Scott's pulse point that drove him wild each and every time they were together. With each wild lick and sharp nip, Scott arched his head back, sliding his legs apart when he felt Logan over him with his hand reaching down between them in an attempt to stroke Scott's body, bringing him to full arousal before Logan's large palm surrounded the both of them pushing and sliding their damp skin against one another. Their mouths collided desperate and eager as Scott's fingers surrounded Logan's palm pumping over their arousals. Sliding his left arm up and around Logan's broad shoulders to dip down between Logan's shoulder blades, Scott stroked at Logan's hot flesh, rubbing his palm over Logan's spine until finally Scott hooked his leg around Logan's muscular bottom squeezing Logan over him tightly as they both found themselves crashing over the edge of reason in a damp outpour of sensation that left the both of them trembling in one another's arms.
"I'm not dreaming this, am I?" Scott finally questioned after a long uneasy silence carried over them. He eased one arm up around Logan's waist before Logan dipped down to kiss him again.
"Not this time," Logan assured him with a playful smirk.
"But how…?" Scott couldn't help, but ask as the warmth of Logan's breath carried over his skin. He felt Logan sink down over him, kissing his shoulder gently before rolling onto his back and guiding Scott over his damp chest.
"I'll explain everything tomorrow, but for now I can't think of anything I'd like more than to spend the rest of the day in your arms. What do you say Slim? Think we can arrange it?" Logan questioned wrapping his arm around Scott tightly, "For the sake of nostalgia?"
"There's so much I want to ask you—so much that we have to say about…" Scott raised his head up to say something more when Logan's index finger pressed over his lips.
"Not tonight," Logan replied with a shake of his head, "Not until tomorrow."
"But…" Scott began again.
"It's after midnight which means it's Christmas," Logan explained coaxing Scott to simply slide in over his chest once again, "How about we take a day off from the rest of the world?"
"Fine," Scott grudgingly sighed before snuggling into the warmth of Logan's chest more completely, "but if I wake up in the morning and you're gone—if somehow this is a hallucination."
"It's not," Logan assured him with a small smile, "and once you wake up in the morning, you'll see that you haven't lost your mind completely. In fact, you might find that Santa left you a little something more under the tree over there."
"What tree?" Scott questioned raising his head up to discover a tiny white tree on the nightstand with gold and blue ornaments upon it. Wrinkling his nose he turned to Logan with a curious expression on his face, "How did you…?"
"…find you?" Logan questioned with a cryptic smirk at Scott's astonishment, "Let's just say I had a little help along the way."
"Emma," Scott gasped in realization when he thought back to the woman he'd once been seeing, "she told you where to find me."
"She told me if I didn't find you before Christmas, then I wouldn't have to worry about explaining how I came back from death's door. She threatened to put me there herself if I let you spend the holiday alone," Logan confessed with a tiny rumble of laughter.
"And so here you are," Scott paused thinking about what Logan had said to him. He stroked Logan's chest as a smile carried over his lips, "you're alive and…"
"Ready to make up for lost time in ways we should've gone and done a long time ago," Logan informed him with a small sweep of his fingers over Scott's spine, "What do you say Slim? Are we ready to bury the hatchet once and for all?"
"Perhaps we can find a way to figure it out," Scott conceded lowering his head down over Logan's chest. Closing his eyes behind his glasses, he couldn't help, but smile feeling as if somehow the horrible years he'd put behind him were somehow turning around now that the impossible was suddenly possible with the man he'd loved and lost beneath him holding him securely in his arms.
"Merry Christmas Slim," Logan whispered kissing the top of Scott's head as Scott's lips curved upward in the beginnings of a tired smirk.
"Merry Christmas Logan," Scott yawned finding himself suddenly at ease as he found himself filled with hope for a happy new year around the corner.
The End